"There aren't enough drugs in the universe to take her down" snapped Shawn to his mother Penelope, as his sister lied motionless in what seemed an increasingly inescapable coma. Penelope did her best to create a calming environment, drawing the shades to nearly a close as the desert mountains off in the distance began to vanquish the sun.
No, commence a time-lapse as the stars, nearly transparent compared to those seen in a rural area, race diagonally into the desert sky, shrouded by the city lights that can either ravage you with euphoria or decimate you to your core. There's power in those lights, innocently masquerading as lights like a wolf in sheep's clothing, duping you into blindness of the black clouds hovering above and stalking you mercilessly.
When I finally closed my eyes I heard music from a different time cascading through my white noise machine, which jolted me awake immediately and left me gasping for air. Again. God damnit, I was so close that time. I can only imagine it was 1930's swing-jazz, or the best example of it my subconscious could muster.
The same who preach tolerance will sooner strap you to a runaway horse and cast you into exile than acknowledge their hypocrisy. I didn't decide to feel this aching tingling dead numbness in my left leg. I don't decide. I'm not allowed.
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